


White Blank Page

by Andromeda_Cain



Category: Glee
Genre: Hot homosexual loving thingies., M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda_Cain/pseuds/Andromeda_Cain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this summary, there is much confusing shit that goes down. I only wrote this for myself; if you don't like my crap summary or my story, too bad. Um, so, yeah, Finn finds his sexuality? in the first chapter and I don't know what else yet. FinnxSam (maybe...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can You Lie Next to Her

**Author's Note:**

> Changes to the Shit: Yesh, I've changed a bunch. Let's start with Finn's height. Don't worry, he's still tall, but not a mammoth like in real life; I've also changed the other boys so that they're a little taller; I'm a tall girl, so I need tall men.
> 
> Finn's home life: I don't remember the true story behind his father, but I'm sure I changed it. Also, I've made it so Burt and Carol got married way before they did in the show. Kurt's crush died out on its own. Finn wasn't such a douchebag.
> 
> Sam comes in way, way earlier than he should. But I can't help it. He's so goddamn hot.
> 
> Uh...I didn't write the Sectionals in. Mainly, it's 'cuz who gives a fuck, every body already knows what happens. Why should I have to write it?
> 
> I did change Finn's reaction to the news of Quinn's baby-daddy. Don't ask my why; I have finger-tourrettes, they kinda type whatever they want. :P
> 
> Okay, commenceth withest thy reading.

In my house, it's almost a given to discover a little part of yourself you never knew before; you know, my dad discovering his sudden need for a younger partner and scarfing off with that next-door bitch; my mom discovering she could get over it enough to find a new man; Kurt finding his sexuality (or rather, coming out); Burt discovering his acceptance of this. So yeah, a shit-ton on discoveries have happened in my house. Just no life-shattering, brain-numbing details that signal, "Yeah, dude, the times, they really are a-changing." I've never had to find a part of myself I've never known before. This is what I'm thinking as my fist connects with Puck's face, contorted in anger.

People are screaming, mainly Quinn, and I'm just kind of hoping she'll shut the hell up. There's no doubt in my mind that I still love this little bitch, no matter what she's done to me, but that doesn't mean I can stop myself from bashing in the face of my former-best friend and her baby-daddy.

"Finn, please, _stop,_ " she cries, and I almost do. Until I realise the agony in her voice is not for me. It's for Puck. I shake my head, about to throw another punch down, when my world flips over again, only this time it's really happening, and it's not just the news that's making me feel like I've been punched in the nuts. Now Puck's on top of me, restraining me with his muscley strength, which he always loves to show off in the locker room. I stare up at him, the fight draining out of me. Unbidden, a tear leaves my eye, and I keep staring up at him, my lips trembling. I want to ask him why, why he would do this, why he betrayed me, why he let me think I was the father all this time. I want to know why I'm the only one in this goddamn high school who couldn't piece together the facts and realise that there was no way I could have gotten Quinn pregnant.

He stares at me too, a depth of emotion in his eyes that I can't understand. At this point, there's no doubt in my mind that I'm through with trying to understand Puck. I'm through with putting up with his bullshit, I'm through with it all. I push against his hands, and he relents, letting me go a bit reluctantly. I stand up, studying all the other members of Glee Club. Shaking my head violently, I cry out, "I'm done with this." Pointing at Quinn, another tear reaches my cheek and I let it. "I'm done with you; I'm done with _everything_." I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me with an air of finality.

* * *

I skipped football practice. I couldn't deal with that piece of shit, couldn't put up with the shit he and everyone else put me through. The minute I left Glee Club, I went outside to the "Druggie Hangout" and I've been here ever since, my large frame tucked into itself with my head dangling in between my knees, lifeless. A dude notices me, toeing me with his shoe. "Yo, dude, you okay?" He asks, his eyes wide as a cigarette hangs from his mouth. I let out a grunt, lifting my head half-heartedly. He takes this as an invitation to sit down, so he does, close to me. "I know you," he says, taking a puff of his light, then looking at me. I look back at him, bleary-eyed. He offers me a puff, and I decline with my hand, unwilling to get hooked on the shit like before. He shrugs, leaning his head back against the wall. "Yeah, you're Finn Hudson, the golden boy. Everybody loves you; you're the quarterback, you can sing too, you've got a sexy girlfriend even if she is knocked up, you—"

I speak for the first time. "Dude, if you don't stop talking, I'm not responsible for the consequences." He raises his eyebrows, gesturing for me to continue, stating that this sounds "interesting." I sigh, squeezing my temples. I almost ignore him, before I think that maybe this could help me. Sighing, I look at him. "So, my perfect, awesome, quarterback life? Not so great. My sexy girlfriend got knocked up by someone else; try my best friend. I'm thinking about quitting singing; it's lost a little bit of its 'charm,' if you understand me. I think I'll just drop out; let the other kids have some time in the spotlight," I end, copying the kid and leaning my head against the wall. He looks at me sympathetically, offering his cigarette again. This time I take it, a long drag off of it sending a kind of bubble to my mind, changing my perception. A flicker of something like a smile graces my face and I look at the kid, handing him the cigarette back.

He studies me, taking a drag off the cigarette immediately, almost like he missed it. "Shit, man, that's fucked up," he states, shaking his head. "But," he says, looking at me, "don't give up singing, dude. You're good at it, like, totally good. I've heard you before. Hell, I kinda go to you guys' rehearsals. It's, uh, a habit of mine, ever since I first heard you. You sound like all the oldies on the radio. It's really cool, actually." He looks away, obviously uncomfortable with giving out this much information.

I widen my eyes at this unexpected ego-boost. I study him too, his blond Justin Bieber-cut, his tan skin, his bright blue eyes. Absently, the thought that he'd definitely survive in Hitler's Germany passes through my mind. I finally smile at him, which warrants a responding grin in return from his wide mouth. Deciding that, even if he already knows my name, we should be properly introduced, I hold out my hand. "Finn Hudson," I say, prompting him to respond with a nod.

He catches on, his grin widening, if possible. "Sam Evans," he responds, and we sit back, passing the cigarette between each other until it dies out. When it does, Sam stands up, reaching out a hand to me. "Let's go, yeah?" He asks, and I smile, grabbing onto his hand and hoisting myself up.

"I have a feeling this is gonna be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," I say, clapping him on the back. He looks at me for a second, before laughing loudly.

"Shit, man, let's get out of here. I think the cigarettes are affecting your mind." I comply, bending down and picking up my backpack before I catch up to him, stealing a cigarette out of his hand. We both laugh, walking off towards the parking lot.

* * *

_"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, it is 7:30 in the morning and you are listening to 96.5, The Eagle. Next up is 'I Want You Back,' by the Jackson 5!"_ As Michael's sweet chords start the song out, I slam my hand down on my radio, groaning. Goddammit; I don't want Quinn back. No matter if I love her; I'll get over it. I know I can. Sighing, I stare out of my window listlessly, wondering if I could just skip school today. A figure peeping his head around my door is most likely not going to let that happen. "Finn?" Kurt whispers, and I turn, to see him already dressed and ready for school. I wonder exactly what time he wakes up as he walks in, settling on the bed. He clears his throat. "So, uh, about yesterday…" He says, and I stop him by holding up a hand.

"Really, Kurt, I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it. I just wanna forget about it, at least until I take my shower. Okay?" He nods reluctantly, standing and leaving me to get ready. I sigh, letting my head lay on the pillow a few more seconds before I fling the sheets off of my body, jumping out of bed. I strip my boxers off as I walk towards my bathroom, letting them fly across the room with a kick. In the shower, I let the water run over me, trying to find the energy in myself to care enough to wash my hair. I find it somewhere, squirting the shit into my hand and rubbing it in, quickly rinsing it off. I take care of the rest of the necessities, quickly exiting the shower and toweling off my soaking body. As I pass by the mirror I can't help but notice the haunted look in my eyes, making me shiver. I just sigh, exiting my bathroom and dressing quickly, no longer possessing the patience to take care of my appearance. Once I'm dressed, I slowly make my way downstairs, getting myself a bowl of cereal. Burt notices my dejection and can't help but comment.

"Hey, buddy, why the long face?" He asks, and I mentally kick myself for wearing my heart on my sleeve. Burt's the only real father-figure I ever had, since my other dad skipped out on us right before I was born, so I don't wanna disappoint the man by telling him that his step-son was such a loser that he thought he got his girlfriend pregnant by ejaculating in the hot tub. I shudder just at the thought of having to tell him the news.

Shaking myself out of my revery, I just smile at Burt. "Ah, nothing's wrong, I'm just wondering if I left one of my textbooks at school," I respond, grinning sheepishly.

He nods, a little "Hnh" sound emitting from his throat, and he dives back into his eggs, forgetting I'm there as he eats.

I sigh gratefully, quickly stuffing the rest of my cereal in my mouth before I rinse it out, grabbing my backpack and keys as I make my way towards the door. "Oh, Finn," Burt calls out, and I freeze, looking at the door longingly. I slowly turn around, not meeting his eyes. I notice that he smiles, though. "Have a nice day, Son," he says, and just like that my day seems like it'll be a lot better.

I grin. "Yeah, you too, Dad," I respond, the under-used word still feeling a little strange on my tongue. I wave to him before heading out, off to another day of hell.

* * *

If I'd realised how many classes Sam and I have together, I would have said something. But somehow, he always managed to sit at the back of the class, out of my sight. We just had first period together; we have second period together too so he's walking me to my locker, talking about some science thing. "So I'm saying, I think maybe Newton's incorrect, gravity—" I slam my door to drown out any more of his intelligence.

"Dude…" I say, looking at him exasperatedly, "how come you know this much?"

He shrugs his shoulders, looking away sheepishly. "Uh, I don't know, I guess it kinda comes naturally to me or something." He looks back to me. "You don't find me weird or anything, right? You still wanna be my friend?"

I stare at him for a second, wondering if he's being serious. Judging by his anticipatory gaze, yeah, he is. "Dude, I don't care if you're smart; actually, you could help me with school, in fact." My face lights up. "Hey, yeah, you could help me bring my grades up! Coach keeps warning me if I don't bring them up, I'll be thrown off the team." I frown at this, hefting one of my books and signaling to Sam that we can start walking again.

He looks really relieved at my response, and he smiles at me, shaking his head. "Shit, man, how bad are your grades?"

I laugh, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, if I told you…your Einstein-like brain would melt. He laughs too, patting me on the back consolingly. I'm about to say something else when I notice a person out of the corner of my eyes. Turning my head a little, I catch Puck, leaning against a locker, just…staring at me. My eyebrows knead together at his gaze, and I quicken my pace, pulling Sam along behind me.

"Whoa, Big Guy, what's the rush?" He asks me, grabbing my sleeve when I let him go. I look at him, then shake my head when I see Puck. It seems like he's following us. Without saying a word I practically sprint to our next class, startling the teacher.

"Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Schue…" I apologise, quickly avoiding my usual seat with Puck and picking a spot in the back. Sam reaches the class soon after, scanning his head around for me. When he finds me, he sits next to me, dropping his bag to the floor.

"Finn, what was that?" He asks me, his eyes questioning as they study me. I squirm in my seat, about to respond when Puck walks into class. He looks around, finds me, then makes his way towards us.

I suck in a breath, praying that someone else take the seat next to me. No chance. He drops into the seat to my right, leaning forward to study Sam, who's sitting on my left. "So, Finn, why'd'ja run away from me?" He asks, sitting back in his seat once he's given Sam the once-over.

I try to contain my depression as I sit up straight, my eyes glued to the chalkboard in front of us. "I didn't," I respond, my teeth gritted.

Sam puts a hand on my arm. "Hey, you wanna move?" He whispers. Puck whips his head to Sam, notices his hand, and sort of growls.

"Ah…you turn queer, Hudson?" Puck asks, his eyes narrowed.

I turn my head, glaring in astonishment at the stupid fucking Mohawk sitting next to me. "You've already done enough to me, Puck. You've won; Quinn's yours. So why don't you get the fuck away from me and leave me alone?" I snap, my hands trembling.

As Puck's opening his mouth to retort, the bell rings and Mr. Schue starts the lesson. I sigh gratefully, letting myself drift off as Mr. Schue rambles off in botched-up Spanish. I'm startled awake when Puck knocks my shoulder, pointing to a note next to my elbow. I'm about to crumple it up when he punches my arm, mouthing " _Read it_." I sigh, looking down to study the paper.

 _I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean for things with Quinn to go that far, I didn't even realise what was going on. I know it's a shitty excuse. But we're bros, man. Can't you forgive me?_ He looks at me pleadingly when I'm finished reading. I study him, wondering how sincere his apology is.

Sighing, I decide to respond. _Not right now. Maybe in a few days, a few weeks, maybe even months. Just leave me alone for now, man. I need to sort shit out._ He reads it, then nods respectfully, even though his eyes show how he wants more. I shake my head; for now, this is all I can give him.

* * *

At lunch the next day, Sam drops his tray down next to mine, stealing a tater-tot off of mine. "So, I was thinking about trying out for the football team," Sam states, looking to me for approval.

I widen my eyes. "Dude, I didn't know you were interested…" I say, trailing off.

He studies me. "So…does that mean you don't want me to?" He asks, his voice wavering. For some reason, the dude cares what I think.

I smile in response. "I think it'll be awesome; we've been needing a change in our lineup anyway."

He smiles back, and it seems even happier than I've ever seen. "I, uh…I'm also kinda interested in joining Glee, actually…" He says, again looking to me for approval.

My mouth is open in shock. "Dude…you can sing?" I ask him.

He responds unwillingly. "Well, um, actually, I don't know. I really only sing in the shower; no one's ever really given me their opinion before."

Without warning I stand up, pulling Sam up with me. "Wait, what?" He says, confused.

I grab my hamburger before starting off. "If you can sing, it'll be awesome for Glee Club. Come with me; we'll see how good you are."

He smiles, running after me. When we reach my club's room, I hand him an acoustic guitar, since he told me he could play on the way over here. I sit down at the drums, holding my drumsticks (which always seem to calm me down) as he sits on a stool across from me, strumming the strings to see if its in-tune before starting off on his song.

" _I wanna be a billionaire, so fricken' bad…"_ He starts off, and soon after I'm joining in, singing and smashing away on my drums. When he finishes I whoop, jumping up from my drums and pulling him in for a bro-hug.

"Jesus, man, with that voice we'll win all of the competitions!" I state, holding him by the shoulders as I try to contain my excitement. He's excited too, and he leans his head forward. I think he's gonna, I don't know, maybe rest it on my shoulder or something (don't ask me to explain my logic) when suddenly his lips touch mine.

It's nice, for the first second, before I realise I'm not gay and jump away from him. He stares at me, a sort of hunger in his eyes. "Wuh…what the fuck, Sam?! I'm not gay, and I didn't think you are!"

He sits back on his stool, studying me. "Well, I am," he states bluntly, "and I thought you were too. Thought the whole 'my best friend knocked up my girlfriend' thing would turn you off to heterosexuality," he says, and from the self-righteous tone I can tell I offended him.

I stand there, not knowing what to say. "Well, uh…I'm straight, man," I finally say, which I can tell is not the correct thing to say.

His eyebrows draw together. "Really, Finn? Really? Then why the hell do you look so depressed when you're with other girls, huh? I can make you happy, Finn; I already have, and we've only been friends for three days!"

"That's right!" I respond, my tone rising, "We're _friends_. I don't usually get feelings for my friends, Sam. Especially not male ones."

He frowns, then suddenly sits up and pulls me in for another kiss, this time taking no chances by pushing me against the wall and restraining my wrists with his hands. His lips are surprisingly soft for a boy, pressing against mine with an urgency I've never felt with Quinn. He deigns to push it even further by letting one of his legs in between mine, rubbing against my crotch. I gasp, shocked. No one's ever treated me this way, been so forceful. The most surprising thing to me right now isn't that Sam's doing this, but that I _like_ it. I feel his lips open as his tongue presses against my lips, darting through the crease as he tries to deepen the kiss. Surprisingly I let him in, opening my mouth enough that he can force his way in, his tongue stroking mine in a surprisingly sexy way. Unknowingly I moan into his mouth, causing him to move even closer to my body, his tongue exploring the whole entirety of my mouth.

Before things get really raunchy, the bell rings, and Sam pulls away from me, both of us breathing hard, our faces flushed, both slightly embarrassed and aroused. Right now I'm floored; I've never even thought about anything like this with a guy before; if I'd known it would be this awesome I probably would have. Sam catches the wanting look in my eyes and laughs in triumph, moving forward to steal a soft, chase kiss from me. "So, maybe you are gay?" He asks me, smiling against my lips.

I avert my gaze, my cheeks flushing even redder. "Uh…maybe. Either that or I'm only into you," I admit, not wanting to see how Sam reacts.

I can feel his excited grin against my lips as he kisses me again, this time deepening the kiss. I soon have to pull away, needing to take a breath. He rests his forehead against mine, looking deeply into my eyes. "That's enough for now," he whispers, steals another gentle kiss from me, and heads out, smiling at me over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Once he's left, I slump down against the wall, holding my head in my hands. What the fuck is up with me? I sit there for a while, confused, before I remember that I have a class to get to. Jumping up, I make my way out of the room, shaking my head to get all my confusing thoughts of Sam out of it, wondering as I make my way to class if I'll see him again. Surprise of all surprises, I really do want to.


	2. And Give Her Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is turning out pretty AU...well, whatever. Most of the people on this site probably don't even read this story, so I don't have to worry! :D

"You sure about this?"

Sam's asked me this question so many times; I'm kind of starting to tune him out. I just send him a small smile, placing my keys in the designated bowl. We've just arrived for the middle of one of our lame Lima High parties, kids are basically humping each other on the dance floor, there's a discarded tank of beer, and I think I see a game of beer pong going on in the living room. I sigh, grabbing a bottle of one of the least disgusting beers. Sam does likewise, twisting the top off. That's when you know you're drinking cheap beer.

I shake my head, taking a swig of my room-temperature alcohol. I honestly thought something would be different about this party; I thought maybe, just maybe, these kids would come up with something a bit more creative than public sex on the "dance floor." Sam and I share a look, and soon we're moving upstairs, climbing out of a window, and sitting on the roof, our legs dangling over the side. We're close enough that our sides are touching. You can't see it from behind, but Sam's hand is on my thigh, just comfortably resting there. We don't talk, instead we watch the stars, at least those that we can see, and the airplanes, flying towards their exotic destinations, the idea of which both scares and excites me. I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere else as Sam turns to me, studying me. I can tell he wants to ask me what I'm thinking about, but I don't turn to him, my eyes following a plane on its route east. To catch my attention, Sam starts stroking my thigh.

It's been about a week and a half since our little incident in the Glee room; at first, things were pretty damn awkward, especially since we had a class together the same day, but…things got different after two days. I realised how lonely I felt without him, and he accepted me when I came back to him. We've been like this since then. I don't really know how to categorise exactly what we are. I kind of don't want to; I'm afraid of what will happen if we put a name to "us."

I look to Sam's moving hand, before letting my eyes travel up to his own. He gives me an encouraging smile, stroking only with his thumb now. I'm a little afraid of how this affects me; response to this kind of stuff isn't exactly my forte. I told Sam as much, but he still tries. I really like that about him.

He leans in for a kiss, and I let him, feeling his soft yet chapped lips against mine, movements forcing my lips to move with his. He smiles into the kiss, letting his hand rest in the middle inside of my thigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I let out an appreciative grunt, and his smile grows, and now he's pushing me back and he's fully on top of me and I can't even taste the gross beer anymore and his hand is moving—

The sound of a window opening shocks us apart.

Before the intruder can tell what's happening, we're back in a sitting position, our beers poised in our hands. The only indication that something's off is our breathing, which is a little uneven as we pointedly look away from each other. "Haha, hey, I knew I saw Finn come up here!" He calls to someone behind him, then turns to us. "Dude, there's, like, college chicks down there. Wanna come with?" Sam, his head turned away from the speaker, lets his mouth turn down in a frown as he grips the front of his jeans, probably trying to contain his anger.

I smile at the guy. "Heh, nah, man, I'll leave that shit to you." He studies me for a moment before shrugging, as if to say "Your loss, dude." He shuts the window after checking both of us out, probably wondering about us. I swear, everybody thinks two guys hanging out by themselves makes them gay. Well, maybe they'd be right at this moment in time…my eyes widen when I realise what I'm thinking. Fuck, I don't know if I'm gay. I know without a doubt that I'm attracted to Sam; he forced me to realise that before and it's not likely that I'll forget. It's just…I don't know what my intentions are. I'm a fucking high schooler for fuck's sake, I don't have to know who I am just yet. I take in a deep breath. Maybe I should talk to Kurt. I just don't know how to breach the topic.

Sam interrupts my train of thought when he slips his hand onto my thigh again, and I look at him, before looking back to the window. He leans in, tantalizingly close. "Come on, he's gone, nobody's coming," Sam states, his eyes focused on my lips. With how close he is, it's hard not to stare at his lips too. I find myself leaning closer before I can stop myself, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Once I pull away, he sits there, wearing a really goofy-looking smile.

I rub my hands together self-consciously. "Wuh…what? Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask, averting my gaze.

Sam leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "That was the first time you kissed me," he says. My cheeks blush despite myself.

"I've kissed you lots of times before," I state, still looking away from him.

Sam's lips turn up against my ear. "Yeah, but you've never _started_ the kiss," he replies, planting a tiny kiss on the ridge of my ear. I involuntarily shiver, my hands itching to grab onto him and let him take my lips captive again. I restrain myself, though. At least one of us needs to be conscious of our surroundings; somebody could walk in on us at any moment, and we may not have warning like last time.

I'm sure Sam realizes this. He does, but it's obvious he doesn't give a fuck. His hand, stationary previously, begins rubbing my leg again, and I turn my head, staring pleadingly into his eyes. He knows if he keeps doing this that I'll eventually cave; he's learned a lot in just a week. His answering grin is absolutely smug. He knows I'll give in. He moves his hand a fraction of an inch higher, and already he's got me, and my mind is becoming a blank as I try to remember the mailman, and suddenly his lips are on mine and he's pulling me in close, so close, that if we tried to breathe we couldn't, but we're not trying to breathe, the most important thing right now is our lips, moving together perfectly as we explore the insides of each other's mouths, appreciative sounds emitting from them and hands exploring backs and chests heaving against each other and heartbeats meeting and teeth knocking and…it starts to become too much so I pull away, breathing hard as I try to catch whatever remnant of breath I have left. He's doing the same, staring at me with eyes full of a want that I've never experienced from anyone else before. His hand closes on mine, picking it up to study it. I'm grateful for this momentary reprieve; I'm afraid if we'd continued this the mailman would have lost and my jeans would be really sticky.

He picks out a particular scar on that stretchy skin between my thumb and forefinger. He looks at me questioningly. Clearing my throat, I explain. "Uh, that's a scar from when I was eleven; Puck dared me to drink one of his friend's beers and I cut myself on the bottle opener."

Sam laughs. "Guess you weren't a bad kid back then," he comments, placing a small kiss on the anomaly. This makes my heart beat faster, and I look away, never expecting a dude kissing my hand to be this much of a turn-on. He notices and smiles, pulling me forward and placing a surprise-attack on my lips. And soon it's back to heaving chests, fluttering heartbeats, hands fucking up hair, other hands roaming across chests, backs, biceps…his hands rest on my sides and stay there, pulling me just as close as before. It's like he thinks the proximity will make us closer, not just physically. I can tell he's putting a lot into this. I realise that he likes me (for reasons unknown to me) and he wants to be more than…whatever we are, and I respect that. It's just…I've never experienced emotions like these before. I've never been swept up into such a crazy, distracting, overwhelming attraction as the one I have for Sam, and it really frightens me. For now, this is all I can do.

His hands are no longer stationary, moving lower to rest against my hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles in the bony part. The ridges, or something. He smiles into my answering moan, somehow deepening the kiss even further, his tongue almost reaching my tonsils the way he's going. You'd think it would be disgusting, I always hated it when Quinn did this kind of thing to me, but with Sam…I lose my train of thought yet again when his hands move yet again to travel up to my chest, pushing me back, his thumbs tracing circles around my nipples, a gasp escaping my mouth at the sensation. It's pretty safe to say no one's done something like this to me before; I'm not really sure how to react. Do I go for his nipples too? That'd be kind of hard; I'm finding it really hard to concentrate on anything but the sensation of his rough hands, and suddenly I'm wishing I didn't have a shirt on, or maybe we both didn't, and it suddenly seems like it would be a good idea to rub our bare chests together, and I'm kind of stuck on this thought as his hands move under my shirt, back up to my nipples, only this time he's touching skin and it's _oh so_ much better than before and now his groin's digging into my groin, making us both gasp in ecstasy at the friction for our aching erections; I don't know about him, but I know I'm gonna lose it if we don't stop soon. The thing is I can't; I'm powerless to his hands, those fucking amazing hands that are tweaking my nipples, making them harder and more sensitive and " _God fucking dammit that's so good,"_ I murmur against his lips, clutching the back of his shirt as he responds by digging our pelvises together again, the low dip just making me want more.

He slowly separates his lips from mine, his eyes hooded in want and attraction and his eyes look so determined, like he already knows how this will all end up and he wants it to happen _now._ I let out a tentative smile, studying him. He stares back, just fucking staring as he breathes hard against me, his hands now stationary on my chest as he keeps studying me. I bite my lip; this is starting to make me a little antsy. I bring my head back up to kiss him but he pulls back from it, continuing with his staring. Finally, I can't take it anymore. " _What?!_ " I ask him, looking away, my cheeks coloring, wondering if he doesn't wanna do this anymore or something, if maybe I did something wrong. It's the only reason I can think of.

Sam shakes his head disapprovingly. "I don't just wanna make out with you," he states, and my eyes shoot to his then away, afraid of what he might say next. He just smiles, placing a small, reassuring kiss on my lips. "I wanna do more than that. I wanna learn about you; I wanna know everything about you. That's what you do when you're interested in someone. You get to know them. And also have hot, sexy make out sessions." He laughs at this, nuzzling into my neck. I'm finding it hard to concentrate on my response; his hands are still on my nipples and they're really distracting.

"May—maybe if you're gonna stop for a little bit, take your hands off my nipples before I lose it," I respond breathily, eyelids fluttering. His answering facial expression is disarming, to say the least. His eyes, previously warm and loving, are now wild and lustful, his grin wide. I try to move back a bit, alarmed, but then realise I'm lying down and pinned against the roof and his body. He knows this.

"Well, this is nice, huh?" He says, and I screw up my mouth, as if to say, " _Understatement."_ He laughs, placing a kiss on my lips. "What I mean is, you like this, right? That must mean something. Do you think you know if you're, like, bisexual or something?"

This makes my eyes widen, and I turn my head to the side, thinking. I clear my throat, a little self-conscious. "Well…uh…I don't know, Sam. I haven't had much time to think about it…uh, I obviously really like it when I'm with you, and I haven't experienced this with Quinn before, but…I don't know how to classify myself yet." I end kind of abruptly, and I finally look to Sam, biting my lip. He's looking away, and I can tell he's not satisfied with my answer. I frown. I don't like disappointing him; it's just I don't really know how to respond yet. He catches my look, and smiles encouragingly.

"It's fine, really. Looks like I'll just have to keep doing this," he says, then demonstrates by rubbing my nipples, forcing a gasp out of my mouth. He smiles, enjoying my attraction to him. He moves his face closer, whispering against my ear, "Looks like I'll have to do _more_ than this."

* * *

Needless to say, after I dropped Sam off at his house, I spent the night whacking off to my imaginations of what " _more than this_ " could entail.

The next day, slamming my hand on the fucking annoying alarm, I cuss out the idiot who decided to throw a party on a Sunday. I groan, throwing an arm over my closed eyes. I'm startled when my door opens. I look move my arm to see Kurt, studying me. I watch him as he moves closer, leaning down a little. "Hey, Buddy," he says, and I can't help the questioning smile this emits from me. I'm really curious as to why Kurt's acting like this. I soon find out. "So, um, you know, I realise how terrible the past week has been, what with having to live with seeing Quinn all the time, so…I just want you to know I'm there for you, alright? I know you're hanging out with that Sam kid, and it's fine, it's just…he's kind of into bad influences, right? I just wanna make sure Quinn hasn't pushed you into doing anything detrimental to your health, you know?" Kurt takes in a deep breath, looking away.

While he was talking, I sat up, and now I'm leaning against the headboard, my hands in my lap, helpless. I clear my throat. "Well, Kurt…I'm fine. Maybe not fine, but…I can get through this. I'm only a teenager, other shit will happen. And, about Sam, he's…uh, not a bad influence at all. Actually, he's a really good one. He's…helping me through all of this," I end, my cheeks flushing a little as I think back to last night. I just hope to God that Kurt doesn't notice it. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to, and straightens up.

"Well, I'm happy. I don't want you trying to get over this by yourself. Just remember, I'm always here for you," he says, his smile warm. I smile back. Damn, it's really nice to have family. Usually, before Mom married Burt, she was too involved with her job, so she didn't have that much time for me, and so hardly ever knew if something was wrong with me. I think about this as I slowly get up from bed; Kurt's already left by this time. I strip off my clothes on my way to the bathroom, pondering my life before Kurt and Burt as I take my shower.

Well, it's not like it was the worst life a kid could have…I kind of learned to take care of myself, cooking for us since Mom was working so hard and she wouldn't let me get a job…sometimes I would find myself getting a little lost, and I wouldn't know how to pull myself back from the brink of depression; that's why it was good to have Puck. He'd take care of me, in that awkward way of his. He really was a good friend to me. I turn the shower off definitively, stepping out and toweling myself off. What happened to us, I wonder. Was it really Quinn? Or was she just the final push? I shake my head, throwing my towel into a corner as I pull on some nice boxer-briefs, my favorites. Yeah, they've got Barney on them, but they're the most comfortable pair I've ever owned. Take that, Burt; your joke present bit you in the ass. I smile to myself, still thankful to have a father figure who would do something like that.

I try not to think anymore as I pull on my other clothes, looking for something that maybe Sam would like. I've noticed him looking at me when I wear my one pair of skinny-jeans; I pull them out of my drawer and smell them. They're pretty okay; I don't wear them much. I then grab a t-shirt and my signature zip-up hoodie, red today.

Burt and I enjoy each other over breakfast, talking about mundane, every-day things that make me happy. Just having something like this is good enough for me. When I leave, I make sure to say "Bye," grinning when he tries to talk around his mouthful of bagel. Walking out of the house, I smile to myself. Today could be a good day.

* * *

Slamming me up against the wall, Sam's lips ravage my own, his hands making their way across my body, touching places that aren't exactly school-appropriate. He bites my lip and I grin, my hands twisting into his hair. When I got to school, I'd walked up to Sam, about to say hi, when he turned, saw me, and suddenly threw me into the nearest janitorial closet. "Why'dja do that?" I ask around Sam's lips, making it sound more like "Wahjoo oo fwat?"

He seems to understand me, though, pulling back to study my appearance, before going in for another deep kiss. When he pulls back this time, he grins, his eyes dilated. "You just looked so fucking sexy; made me think about last night again and I couldn't help myself from taking advantage of you," he responds, before letting his lips fall on my collarbone, pulling my shirt's collar away as he sucks and bites at my skin.

I let out a little gasp of a laugh, fingering a lock of his blond hair. "Is it really 'taking advantage' of me if I enjoy it?" I ask, and I can feel him smile against me, before he moves up to my neck, biting it possessively. Is it wrong for me to wish that he leaves a mark? I'd like something to entertain me during math; I'm sure staring at my hickies would definitely distract me.

The ringing bell stops Sam's hands, which were fingering the hem of my shirt; he was probably intending on playing with my nipples. We both sigh, disappointed. Really, passing periods are just too short. Sam looks at me, before smiling and kissing me softly. "We should set up a time before school so we can make out," he says, and I nod in agreement.

"5:30?" I ask, and he laughs. I laugh too; really, I was only half-serious. He kisses me again.

"How about 7:30?" He asks, and now I can tell that he would have enjoyed coming at 5:30 as well. Hah. Coming. Suddenly I envision what Sam would look like doing this and it doesn't seem so funny; more like extremely, mind-blowingly amazing. I have to envision the mailman before something bad happens. I realise after a few short seconds I have yet to respond to Sam's question. I nod quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away from him.

"See you second period," I say, before leaving; he'll probably leave a few seconds after me. I rush to my class, hoping that Sam won't be late for his. I make it to my desk just as the bell's ringing; my teacher gives me a look before starting off his lesson. I look down to see that, yes, Sam has marked me. Much more than I thought he would. I slowly zip up my hoodie, all the way to the top; I can still see one of the hickies if I crane my neck in a weird way.

I'm doing just this when I hear someone say "This is my seat," and I look up to see Puck forcing a kid out of the seat next to me. He flops down, pulls out a notebook, then looks at me, just studying me. I stare back at him. We haven't really talked after that one time we exchanged notes; I wasn't expecting to have to acknowledge his presence so soon. He obviously has something he wants to talk about; he passes me a note before I can turn away from him. I give him a look and sigh, before looking down at it. _I saw you come out of the closet_ it reads, and for one terrifying second I think he's saying it metaphorically, and wonder if he saw Sam and I at the party, before I realise we were in the closet together this morning.

I screw up my face, wondering how to get out of this. To hedge for time, I write back, _So?_ Puck gives me a look, before looking to the paper and writing.

_I saw that druggie-kid come out after you_.

My eyes widen, and I look up to Puck, my cheeks flushing a red that keeps deepening as the seconds pass and he just stares, his mouth frowning. I really don't know how I'm supposed to respond. He takes advantage of this, scribbling _Didn't know you were queer._ My eyes narrow at this, and I turn pointedly away from him, signaling that this note-passing has ended. He taps me on the shoulder, looking down at the paper pointedly. I hesitantly check it. _Meet me after school_ is all it says, and I'm about to shake my head when he mouths ' _Please_ ,' and he really looks adamant, so I reluctantly nod my head, before looking away from him, refusing to acknowledge his presence the rest of the class period.

* * *

In second period, Sam's studying the note, frowning. I fiddle with my pen nervously, wondering what he'll say. He finally looks to me. "I think you should go," he says, and my eyes widen, the pen falling from my fingers.

"Wuh-why?" I ask in a whisper, my mouth open in shock.

He studies me, his arms crossed, slouched into his chair, as he bites his lip. "Well," he starts, "he's your best friend right? Even though this shit with Quinn went down, you're still friends either way. So, you should hear him out, maybe see what he has to say before you cut him out of your life."

My mouth opens, but I have nothing to refute what Sam's said. It's all true. Damn genius. I sigh, my head hanging. "I…I just don't know how I'll deal with him, especially if we're alone. I might punch him again or something." I rest my head in my palms, kneading my hair with my fingers.

Looking around to make sure no one's watching, Sam places a comforting hand on the small of my back. I slowly look up to him, and he smiles encouragingly. "I could come with you if you want," he says.

I smile. "Thanks, but…Puck's the kind of guy who doesn't like opening up around strangers," I explain, also looking around before I grab his hand under the table. This all feels like such a couple-ish thing to do; I'm surprised by how comfortable I am with it.

Sam's smile is disappointed, but I can tell he's trying. "Alright, just make sure you tell me all about it after. How about I meet you at Burger King after Puck?" He responds.

I smile back, squeezing his hand. "Yeah, sounds good."

* * *

After fourth period, I stuff my books that I never use into my locker, before shutting it. I jump when I see who was behind the door; Puck's there, leaning against the adjacent locker. I clutch my chest dramatically. "Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me."

Puck grimaces. "Dude, you're such a girl," he states, and I stick my tongue out at him, then catch myself. Wait, we can't just go back to being friends; he's gonna have to do something to prove his worthiness. I glare at him, and he notices the shift in my attitude, sighing. "Christ, just come with me," he commands, and I hesitate before following him outside, to the back of the school. By this time all the druggies have left, so it's just me and Puck. He leans up against the wall, and I can' t help but smile as I remember that this is where Sam and I met. I'm a really sentimental softie, I guess.

Puck catches my smile. "Alright, so what the fuck is up with you and Evans?" He asks. I knew he knew Sam's name. I sigh, walking in front of him and looking sideways instead of at him.

"Not that I owe you an explanation, but…" I stop myself, taking in a breath. Jesus, I haven't told anyone about me and Sam, and I don't think Puck is the best person to tell. Well, he knows about it now, and he probably won't leave me alone until he finds out everything. "We're, uh, well, he's…" I break off. Fuck, how am I supposed to start this? I rub the back of my neck.

Puck growls, impatient. I sigh, before turning and facing him. "I like Sam," I state, biting my lip. I turn away again, not knowing if I have the courage to say this to his face. "In fact, I really like Sam. It's not that we're dating or anything, but…we might, later on," I manage, my cheeks growing redder and redder by the second. My eyes find their way to Puck's, and I'm surprised by how livid his expression is.

Fists balled at his sides, Puck glares at me. "When. In. The. Fuck. Did. You. Find. This. Out?" He asks, the breaks in his sentence caused by a short pause, probably so he could contain his anger. Alarmed, I take a step back.

"Uh…like, about a week and a half ago," I state, and suddenly Puck's pushing off of the wall, stalking toward me with a murderous look on his face.

He reaches me, and suddenly we're nose-to-chin as he growls out, "Why him?" I'm puzzled by this question before he's pulling at the nape of my hair, bending my neck so that his lips can reach mine. I gasp, trying to get out of his grasp, but he's much stronger than me, so he just flips us and pushes me against the wall, roughly tugging my hands up and restraining them next to either side of my face, his legs blocking mine from moving. I try to move my head, but he uses our hands to block it in, deepening the kiss simultaneously and sticking his tongue into my mouth, dominating me completely. I'm making noises, trying to get out of his hold, but as stated, he's just too fucking strong for me. He finally pulls away when it's hard to breathe and darkness starts edging around the corners of my eyes. We're both gasping for breath, and he's staring at me, his gaze set in determination.

I'm glaring at him, my mouth open and tongue lolling as I try to catch my breath enough to start screaming at him. Before I can, he says, "I was here first," before releasing me and walking off. I catch myself before I fall. I stare at the ground for a few seconds, trying to regain my thoughts. When I finally do, my eyes widen. "Wait, what?!" I cry out to myself. In no way have I ever thought Puck could be gay or bisexual or whatever; there was that one time, yeah, where we looked up the meaning of "gay" and tried out kissing just for the fuck of it; nothing came of it, it was just kinda nice, but didn't seem like something I'd like to try again with him.

I still don't. Maybe he's a good kisser, yeah, but…I don't get the same feeling with him as with Sam. It's not that he forced the kiss on me; Sam did the same thing and I was fine with it. I shake my head, thinking back to the kiss. For fuck's sake, there's absolutely no way that Puck's gay! He's been with so many women! Shaking my head again, I quickly pull some semblance of myself together, adjusting my backpack before making my way out of there, finding it a little hard to walk.

* * *

It was hard for me to drive. I kept accidentally swerving out of my lane, or running through red lights, or that one time when I almost clipped a bicyclist…well, I finally got to Burger King without injuring anyone. I sit in my car for a few seconds, trying to regain composure. I take a breath, before finally exiting the car and making my way to the door, fumbling with the handle before opening it and going inside. Sam sees me and waves me over to a secluded booth. He's already ordered for both of us. I take a sip of my coke as I sit down, anything to make it hard for me to talk. "So, how'd it go?" Oh, shit.

I avert my eyes from Sam's, sucking in a breath. "Oh, fine, nothing happened…" I say, my voice accidently cracking at "nothing". Sam narrows his eyes, studying me. I fidget under his gaze, before finally relenting. "Alright, okay, something happened!" I exclaim, slamming my cup down agitatedly.

Sam places a comforting hand on my wrist. "It's okay, Finn, just tell me what happened," he says, and I'm extremely grateful for how coolly he's handling this. That makes one of us.

Taking in a deep breath, I look to Sam, my cheeks coloring. "Um…well, Puck, he, uh…he kissed me," I blurt out, afraid that if I don't say it now I'll never be able to. I study Sam through my eyelashes, scared of how he'll react to the news.

He looks kind of calm. His expression looks calm, collected, his eyes are looking away, his hand—oh, fuck, his hand is squeezing mine so hard…I look down to see that his is extremely red as it clutches my white, bloodless one. I let out a squeak when he starts using his nails. He jumps, releasing my hand instantly. "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry Finn!" He cries, quickly grabbing my abused hand and kissing it gently, cradling it in his own. My eyes widen as I watch Sam, behaving so strangely and I know it's partly my fault. I wish I could have done something more, maybe beat Puck with a crowbar or something, anything to make Sam feel better.

I lower our hands. "Sam…it's okay. I feel really bad for what happened. I don't know why he did it, but Puck basically attacked me. I didn't enjoy it or start it." I look away, letting his hand go when a waitress comes by and asks if we want some napkins; we send her away with a simultaneous "No, thanks."

Sam studies me, cradling his cup of soda in his hands as he does so. Finally, he speaks. "Well…I guess I'm happy that you didn't want the kiss," he points out, scratching his jaw. "But if I ever see that asshole again…" Sam states, and I place a restraining hand on his arm, his hands are starting to squeeze his cup detrimentally. He sighs, releasing his cup from his deadly fingers. He looks to me, a hesitant smile on his face. "Can we get out of here?" He asks.

I smile back. "Sure, that's fine," I state, taking a quick bite of my previously untouched burger before sliding out of the booth. Sam follows, sliding a surreptitious hand across my back before passing me, holding the door open for me as we leave.

When we reach his house, Sam sits back in his seat, letting out a deep breath. I study him as I put the car in park, turning off the headlights. He looks to me, a small smile on his face. "What were we talking about again?" He asks.

I laugh. "Seriously, man, I can't remember," I respond. He laughs too, skooching closer to me, and I'm suddenly thankful that I picked a truck to be my first car; it would be kind of hard to make out without the conjoined seating.

He pushes me against my door, cradling my face in his hands as he pushes his body up against mine, smoothly transitioning from buddy-mode to…what do I call him? Boyfriend?

I'm puzzling about this as he slips his hands under my shirt, already comfortable with taking advantage of my cluelessness. I grin into his kiss, which just makes him deepen it, as though he's trying to suck the lips off my face. I'm fine with it; at this point, I wouldn't mind if he put his mouth on every part of my body. I moan as I envision it, my cock twitching. He notices, smiles, and digs his groin into mine as his hands tweak my already-hardening nipples. I gasp at both forms of contact, and he takes advantage of my comatose state by travelling down to my neck, making more marks with his teeth and suction-like lips. We both groan together, and I buck my hips, getting some much-needed friction to my aching erection. We both gasp, and I tangle my hands in his hair, scratching against his scalp. He moans, biting my bottom lip, which just makes me buck my hips again. This could probably go on all night; it probably would have, if not for the tapping at the passenger side window. At first we ignore it, but then it gets louder. I pull away from Sam, a questioning look on my face. "Did you hear that?" I ask, and his expression, clouded in want, screws together as he tries to piece what I'm saying together; I think he's kind of focused on his hand, which somehow slipped into my pants without my noticing. We both turn our heads simultaneously to the window. What we see there makes us both jump and shout out cuss words like the most natural thing in the world.

"Shit!" "Fuck!" "Son of a bitch!" "Motherfucker!"

It's a dude, with blond hair, who kind of looks like Sam. By this time we've separated, and Sam's hesitantly rolling down his window, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, Dad," he says, and I gasp. Oh, shit, this is the first thing his dad's gonna think of every time he sees me now. I bite my lip, fidgeting uncomfortably in my seat, averting my eyes from the man to my side.

"Son, we're going to need to have a little talk," he states, and I'm surprised to hear that it kind of sounds like he's hiding laughter. I hesitantly look over to him, to see that he's smiling at me. "But, before that, how about you bring your boyfriend in and we get a proper introduction, huh?" I widen my eyes at that, extremely surprised.

Sam smiles encouragingly at me, before opening his door and getting out, beckoning to me. "Come on in, we can explain it to Dad inside," he says, and I bite my lip, hesitant. Finally, I make up my mind, taking my keys out of the ignition, exiting the car a bit less than smoothly. I smooth back my hair sefl-consciously as Sam grabs my hand, towing me along as we walk up the path to his house, toward my awaiting doom.


End file.
